What Aidan Sees
by Moonside Mango
Summary: Samara never sleeps. Neither does Aidan...CH 2 UP. Evelyn babbles and Rachel gets an unexpected visit from...Noah?
1. Aidan

**Author's Note Time! **I've rewritten this waaay too many times. Anyways, the first few times I was just being nitpicky. This time I've totally given the story a re-haul so it fits nicely between _The Ring_ and _The Ring Two_. Okay, ready? BEGIN FIC

. . .Just kidding. UPDATE FEB '06: Changed the page breaks to the "xo" thing. doesn't like the ones Word uses, apparently.

**Chapter One: Aidan**

I used to love the park.

The one near Katie's house. She would hold my hand and we'd cross the street together. Then we'd sit on the swings all afternoon, talking and laughing and playing together.

I miss Katie.

I still go to the park though. I go after school, so Rachel can have some time alone. She hasn't been the same since the tape came along. I'm not exactly sure what she was doing all that week with my dad. But I know she started seeing things the way I see things. I think she was afraid.

"_Things can only get better, Honey. Don't worry about me,"_ she had said with a sad smile. It was yesterday, at my father's funeral.

But I do worry about her; it's my job to worry about her. I worry about everything.

I go to the park to forget things. I like to pretend Katie's still on the swing next to me, and then I look over and pretend to see her smiling face.

But when I look...I see _her._ She won't let me forget.

That little girl. Samara. _'Go away,'_ I think. I already know she won't listen. She never goes away. Not even the park and my happy memories could keep me safe.

She's smiling at me. She doesn't talk much.

She only takes me by the arm and shows me things. Things I don't want to see.

I see the horses. There're dozens of them, all on their backs. Their hooves are banging, teeth gnashing, and the sounds they make echo off the walls of the barn and fill my head. Maggots are crawling all over them, eating them alive; eating and eating until the horses are just piles of squirming maggots.

"Can you see it? They were so bad. I made them go away," she whispers in my ear. I don't like her voice.

I cover up my ears with my hands. "It's not right. You killed them. You shouldn't have killed them."

I can hear her anyway. "I didn't like them. I punished them." She sounds so happy. It makes my stomach hurt.

Her voice is getting louder. She never used to talk. Now she's not trapped anymore, and she can do whatever she wants. I should have warned Rachel so much earlier. It's my own fault.

"But I like _you_. We can always be together."

The maggots are sprouting arms and legs and try to crawl around like little people, wriggling and crying and moaning and starving for air. There are holes where their eyes are supposed to be. The sockets are hollow and the blood is oozing out like tears. They're crying out for mercy, but there's nothing I can do. I wonder if everyone's going to end up like these, her victims.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask. I know it's pointless. She'll never give me a straight answer.

"You and me, we're just the same, Aidan. I want us to be together."

"Then why are you hurting me?"

"I'm sorry," she tells me with a smile. "It won't stop."

She follows me home. She follows me to my room. She follows me everywhere. I can't always see her, but I can feel her presence. I forget what it's like to feel calm.

xxxxxxooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxx

I use my crayons, swirling them around on the white paper and taking out the pictures she shows me. _Get out of my head, horses. Get out of my head, Samara._ I can't do it at school anymore. It gets me attention I don't need. It gets Rachel in trouble, too.

"Aidan, dinner's ready!"

My art things go back in the box and I head towards the kitchen. As soon as I walk out into the hall, I can smell something burning.

There's some overcooked meatloaf and some soggy green vegetables on the table. "What do you think? Looks good, right?" Rachel's trying too hard to sound happy.

Up until recently, we just used to eat a lot of Chinese food. I didn't really mind it.

"Help yourself, there's plenty to go around!" I'm sitting down, but I don't feel hungry. I'm going to be quiet so I don't hurt her feelings. She looks down at her plate and pushes around some of her food. I don't think she wants to eat it any more than I do.

"So…how was school?"

"It was okay."

I don't know what she wants me to talk about. I'm not going to tell her about the sound of horses keeping me awake during naptime or the feeling of cold hands gripping at my shoulders when I sit by myself at lunch.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yeah." It's a nice thing to know, even if I'm not going to take her up on her offer.

"Okay." She's smiling again. It's not a happy smile, but it means she understands. So I smile back.

"Oh, before I forget…there's a box of things for you by the front door. You might want to take a look at it."

"What kinds of things?"

Rachel bites her lip and looks down for a second, then looks back up at me. "Oh, you know…a lot of your dad's old junk." She wants to sound casual, but it's not working. I shake my head inwardly. "Cameras, mostly."

"Oh."

xxxxxxooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxx

It's getting late. Rachel tucks me into bed. She's still got kind of a sad look in her eyes. I think she misses Noah the way I miss Katie. Neither of us will bring it up, though. Rachel's got communication issues. I do, too.

She turns the lights off and goes to her room. I hope she sleeps better than I will...

When the lights go out, it gets cold. She wants to talk to me again.

"I love Mommy. Don't you?"

"She's not your mommy," I growl. "Leave Rachel alone." Sometimes she makes me more angry than scared.

"Mommy loves me the best. You're jealous." She's breathing into my ear again. My teeth are clenched up. It's so cold. "Someday you'll see."

I want to ask her how, what, when, why. But I can't; I can't because I feel like I've been hit hard on the back of the head. I can taste my own blood, and everything goes dark and I feel like I'm being dragged down into someplace cold and wet. It's her dark place.

"We'll be together. We'll _never_ sleep."


	2. Evelyn, Rachel

_**BRIDGE: EVELYN**_

_You've found someone new, haven't you, my baby? I can always tell. This morning, when the fog around the lighthouse lifted, I could hear our song on the breeze. You sounded happy._

_You killed again, baby. You shouldn't have done it. But you did, you couldn't stop. I couldn't stop you before it was too late. And you won't stop. It got too dark for you in the water. The Morgan woman wanted it to stop, and she tried. But it was wrong, all wrong. And now nothing can hold you back._

_This new someone, the woman and her little boy. You let her set you free, and she'll be coming to me soon, I know. But until then…_

_I know you won't be sleeping. And neither will I, darling._

_**2: RACHEL**_

I never knew what to make of Aidan before, but I'm at a loss now more than ever. The closer I try to get to him, the more he closes himself off to me. Ruthie felt that way about Katie toward the end, too, but Katie was sixteen. Aidan is eight.

But for whatever reason, at this point, I'm determined to make some progress. I don't know if he needs a mother any more than before, but I need to _be_ one. Because when it all comes down to it, when I think about last week…Aidan and myself are all I have left to protect from Samara. And I'd gladly give up the latter if it would save the former.

But there's nothing left I can do tonight. Aidan's asleep, and I'm here at the kitchen table staring into a lukewarm cup of black coffee.

Or at least, I was. Somewhere along the line, my head ended up buried in my arms. I'm exhausted, that's all. I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes and this headache will go away. Just a few minutes…

"Hey."

Someone else is in the room. I jolt upright, startled at the hand on my shoulder.

"Aidan?" I ask, instinctively.

"Guess again, Sleeping Beauty."

I know that voice. Oh god, I'm losing it. Because there's Noah, hovering over me. He takes a step back while I rub my eyes, expecting him to disappear like all my other momentary visions of ladders and dead women. But he's still there, smirking as he pulls out a chair across from me and sits in it.

"Long time, no see," he remarks offhandedly, picking up Aidan's fork to prod cold, barely-touched meatloaf. "This supposed to be some kinda hamburger thing?"

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I close it, then open it again, then close it, watching him take a bite and grimace.

"Nice. Very….uh, chewy," he comments, reaching for a napkin. "You know, my mom used to make it with tomato juice and onions…"

I finally find words as he deposits the chewed food into the napkin, looking like it's an effort not to laugh at me.

"Noah, you can't be here," I reason, rubbing my throbbing temple. "You're dead. They buried you yesterday. Please tell me I'm not going crazy."

"Depends on who you ask," he shrugs. I must be giving him my most incredulous look, because he finally offers up an explanation. "Chill out, Rach. You're _dreaming_."

"Oh."

I stare at him for almost a minute. Usually in a dream when someone tells me I'm dreaming, I wake up. But this isn't going away. I start to drum my fingers on the table.

"So…I thought you'd be a little happier to see me." He says, still showing no intention of leaving.

"Oh, no. I mean, yeah," I say. My head is still pounding. "I mean, sorry. I'm sorry, Noah."

I'm thinking '_sorry'_ isn't much to say to someone when you're indirectly responsible for their death, but it's all I can think of to offer. Noah's expression is unreadable, but he reaches out and covers my hand with his. I recoil jerkily. He's _freezing_.

"I'm sorry, Rach, I don't have much time. She'll find me soon."

"Samara." I say. He nods. This must not be an average dream, I realize. Everything's so clear. Ruthie always used to talk about spiritual visits and dreams that meant something when we were teenagers. I'd just laugh at her then.

"What was it like, Noah? Dying, I mean. Did she…?"

Noah shakes his head and chuckles. "I was so scared, I could've pissed my pants."

I just stare open-mouthed at him. Leave it to Noah to make light of something that's been eating away at me for the past week. We both laugh a little, and I'm starting to feel better. But his expression changes abruptly, and I suddenly feel solemn again.

He's standing again, taking me by the shoulder. 'C'mon, Rachel, I have to show you something."

This can't be good. The room around me is shifting and blurring into shades of gray, and my head is killing me and I'm getting so dizzy that I have to put my arm around him for support. And when we stop spinning, I still haven't let go.

The sky above us is gray and the grass below us is brown, and on the foggy horizon I can make out the shape of a well on the edge of a forest.

"Oh god," I mouth, "Not here again." But Noah pushes me forward gently, telling me to look closer without a sound. After a hesitant glance in his direction, I begin to move toward the shapes. Now my stomach is starting to hurt, too, because Samara is here, her back to me, and in her chilly embrace…oh dear god no, it can't be—

"_Aidan!"_ I scream. "Aidan, get away from her! Don't let her touch you!" But he doesn't look up, he doesn't move, he doesn't respond and I know something's wrong. She's hit him in the head with a rock and his nose is bleeding; I lunge forward to save him but Noah stops me.

"They can't see you. They can't hear you. I'm sorry," he says, gripping me by the shoulders. I can't bite back my tears anymore, and despite everything he's just said I continue to struggle against Noah as she whispers poisoned words into Aidan's ear and pushes him down into the well.

And then I could swear she's looking at me.

"_Mommy,_" a hoarse voice croaks into my ear. I look around, but now everything's fading, even Noah.

"_Shit_. She knows…I have to go. Save him, Rachel," he urges, "Look for his shadow. It's the only way—"

xxxxxxooooooooooxxxxxxx

I don't have time to make sense of it, because I'm back in the kitchen, awake and gasping for breath.

Two weeks ago I wouldn't have been scared. And I wouldn't have made anything of it, just dismissed it as my imagination. But a dream is never just a dream anymore, and I have to check up on Aidan because I have this horrible feeling that something's happened.

"_Please, please, please, let him be safe, let him be safe…" _I whisper to no one over and over as I shakily stand up and open the door to the living room. When I slide open the doors and see light emitting eerily from the TV, my stomach drops.

Every step closer to the television fills me with more dread. The sound of soft static is taking precedent over my other senses, but I swear there's also the sound of feet walking in water with every tread on the carpet. I look down for a second and realize my slippers are soaked, and what finally confirms all my fears is a split-second image of a strand of snaky black hair retreating into a well.

I don't care how late it is. I don't care if the whole damn building wakes up. I need to know if she's done anything to him. I scream out for my son, sprinting to his bedroom and throwing on the light switch, revealing the worst possible scenario—his covers are folded all the way back and he's just _gone_.

Any rational thought I may have had has left me and I check everywhere else; the closet, the bathtub, my room. I'm in a full-scale panic and I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to do.

And then the phone rings. Without hesitation, I pick up.

"_Here we go, the world is spinning…"_

"_Dammit!_" I exclaim bitterly, slamming the receiver back down. I've got to do something. I…need a flashlight. And some asprin.

Someone's still singing.

"_When it stops, it's just beginning…"_


End file.
